


Fair Share of Darkness

by TheGrimLlama



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies), Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5205131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGrimLlama/pseuds/TheGrimLlama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Supernatural crossover that NO ONE asked for...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

**June 1990**

First birthday parties were supposed to be a joyous occasion.  Balloons, flowers, teddy bears and giggles should be the order of the day.  Stacie Conrad’s first birthday started that way.  A family brunch, with her Mom, Dad, her Aunt and Uncle, and her tiny cousin Beca. 

James and Mary Conrad had spared no expense or effort for their only child’s birthday.  Sure she was only a year old, but Mary had insisted on having all the trimmings for a proper party.  Her brother Warren, who worked away, had managed enough time off to be home to celebrate with them.  It was a rare occurrence.  Warren worked for an insurance company and was forever out of town on business. 

It was nearing lunch time, Mary and Rachel were in the kitchen prepping salads while James put the finishing touches on the hamburgers that he was renowned for. 

Warren was watching the two toddlers in the sitting room, when the day turned tragic.  Beca and Stacie had both looked towards the kitchen and started wailing simultaneously.  Warren looked up at the kitchen door, dread burning in his get as Rachel screamed for him to get the girls out of the house.  The door to the kitchen swung shut and bolted itself before Warren could get to the others.  He could smell sulfur and smoke was creeping eerily from beneath the door. 

  “Go, Warren!”

He didn’t need to be told again.  He scooped up the girls, who were clinging to each other in the middle of the floor and raced for the front door.  It was jammed shut.  _Shit._ Looking around the room, his eyes landed on the futon under the large bay window.  He put the girls on the floor and grabbed the comforter, wrapping it around his fist.   He pulled back before slamming into the window with enough force to shatter the glass panes.  He untangled his hand from the blanket, scooped the girls up and dived through the window, rolling mid jump so as not to land on the still sobbing toddlers.  There was a loud shriek.  Something akin to the sound of twisting metal, followed by a hiss and a loud explosion. 

Warren watched, his face and heart heavy as the kitchen door shot across the sitting room, a plume of some and steam gushing from the now shattered door way.  It didn’t take long for the fire to spread now that there was nothing blocking his path.  He stood quickly and rushed towards the crowd that was slowly gathering on the other side of the street. 

***

 

If you’d have asked Warren Mitchell in 1990 what his life would be like in ten years time, his answer would have been vastly different to reality.  He finished the braid that he was weaving into his nieces hair before moving on to his daughter’s ponytail.  Raising two eleven year old girls alone was never in his plans.  After the fire that killed his wife and Stacie’s parents, Warren had moved towns.  He and the girls moved from town to town, never staying in one place for too long, picking up odd jobs whenever he could find a babysitter who wouldn’t ask too many questions.  The girls had grown up remarkably well adjusted, considering their transient upbringing.  Stacie was bubbly and sociable, yet was learning well above her age group and running track at a state level (well, if they’d stayed longer than a month she would be).  Beca on the other hand, could clean and assemble a pistol faster than a marine and could shoot with pinpoint accuracy.  Warren knew that training these girls from a young age would be the only way to keep them alive in their business.  So that’s what he did.  From the moment Stacie could walk, and Beca could crawl, they were schooled in the ways of hunting.  Beca excelled, taking to her training like a duck to water.  Warren attributed this to her protective nature and inability to sit still.  Stacie was the brains of the two.  Not that Beca wasn’t smart, she was more suited to the physical aspect of hunting. 

Stacie however, Stacie could recite his journal cover to cover.  She could tell you exactly what something was and how to kill it without delay. 

He knew that Stacie would one day want to go to college.  He knew this without a doubt.  He also knew Beca would be devastated when that day came.  So he prepared the both of them, as best he could.

***

 

It was like clockwork.  Stacie’s college acceptance letters rolled in one after one, with Stacie finally settling on Harvard, pre-med.  Beca was her surly self, preferring to ignore the situation.  She hadn’t spoken to her cousin in days.

Warren was starting to feel the pinch of the situation.  One of the girls he’d raised for the last eighteen years was flying halfway across the country.  Turning her back on her family and the life that she’d been raised for.  Eventually as Stacie was packing her duffle, the reality of the situation set in. 

Warren Mitchell had always been quick to temper.  Beca had inherited the trait too, much to his dismay.  So when Beca came home from her run to find her adopted sister packing a duffle bag, the trouble started.

Beca, obviously feeling hurt at the idea that Stacie was choosing college over a life hunting and doing what they had been trained to do, lost what little handle she had on her temper. 

The argument ended with both girls red in the face, and Stacie storming out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

Over the next few days, Warren comforted Beca as best he could.  She was angry with Stacie for leaving, she was furious at herself for causing it. 

Days of Stacie screening his calls and texts turned to weeks.  Weeks of silence turned into months.  Soon enough, two years had passed without word from his niece.

He’d continued moving from town to town, Beca joining him on hunting trips more often than not now.  It was the way things were supposed to be.  Almost.

***


	2. Chapter 2

Stacie stumbled through the door of her dorm room, hands tangled into the shirt of the frat boy ( _Caleb? Cameron?)_ she was enjoying the company of.  She reached across, flicking the light on, while attempting to dispose of frat boys shirt. 

  “Uh… Stace?”  

She looked up.  He was staring at her bed, trying to remove her hands from beneath his shirt.  Stacie glanced in the direction of her bed, noticing the smug looking brunette with a beer in her hand and a smirk on her lips.

  “Bad time, Stace?” Beca asked, taking a swig of the beer that she’d pilfered from Stacie’s fridge. 

  “Beca, what the… Fuck…”

  “Just to put it out there.  I am down for a threesome,” frat boy answered with a wink.  Beca choked on her beer, missing the elbow that Stacie threw at her consort.  He let out a groan, “What? She’s hot…”  
  “Caleb…”  
  “Callum.”

  “Callum, this is my sister Beca.”

Beca gave him a tight smile and a wave, “Caleb…”  
  “Callum…”

  “Apologies for ruining… whatever that is… But I need to speak with Stacie please.”

Stacie laughed bitterly, “Oh, you wanna talk? Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Caleb…”

  “Dad hasn’t been home in a few days,” Beca said, seriously.

  “So he’s working overtime and forgot to call…”

Beca held a hand up and gave her a pointed glance, “Dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

Stacie dropped her hand from frat boy’s chest, “Callum, can we just…  I’ll call you.”

***

Beca woke to an incessant buzzing from the bedside table.  She shoved Stacie’s arm off her waist and reached for the phone on the bedside table.  That was one thing she disliked about Stacie.  She was a cuddler.  Beca hated affection of any kind.  She just didn’t see the need for it. 

  She glanced at the phone, noting a message from an unknown sender.

**_One new message:  Unknown number…_ **

  “Stace… Can you… Dude… I think… Are these coordinates?”

Beca could hear Stacie shifting beneath the cheap dorm room sheets, she held the phone out, tapping the screen to keep the backlight. 

  “Yeah…  Kansas maybe,” Stacie answered, her voice heavy with sleep.  “College made me weak.”

Beca let out a dry laugh, “You chose the college life.  Don’t complain because you wanted smarts.  Do you think this is from Warren?”

  “Maybe?  Check the web.  Something might ping.  Can… Can I…” Stacie let out a loud yawn, “I’m sorry Becs.  I need more than three hours sleep, babe.”

Beca sighed, “Will you be fine if I look into…” She shook her head, silently reminding herself to tease Stacie about her snoring in the morning.  She blindly fumbled around on the bedside table before locating her laptop. 

  “Kansas, huh…. What could possibly be happening in Kansas?”

 

When Stacie woke, she noted that she was alone in the room.  She wondered for a moment whether she’d dreamed her sister turning up the previous evening.  It wasn’t until she scanned the room and noticed that her bag was gone and a change of clothes was spread across the desk.  She rubbed her eyes and sat up slowly, taking her time to adjust.  “Dude, we got a hit on those coordinates.  Looks like an angry spirit.  Two deaths in as many weeks.”

  “Ugh, I hate spirits…”

Beca laughed, “That’s the hangover talking… Get dressed and get in the car, asshole.”

***

 

  “You really think that message is from dad, Becs?”

Beca tore her eyes from the road, at shrugged at Stacie, “I don’t know Stace.  I guess I’m kinda hoping that we’ll get some answers.  I’m just sick of sitting back…”

She noticed the flickering neon of a run-down, pay-by-the-hour motel, she quickly indicated, pulling into the carpark.  “It’s been three weeks of radio silence from dear old Warren.  For all we know, he’s dead...”  She turned off the ignition and glanced at her cousin who was leaning listlessly against the passenger seat.  “I’m sorry Stace…”

  “It’s okay, Beca.  You’re right.  We should get a couple of hours sleep before we check out the Hells House.”

Beca dropped her head to the steering wheel as she listen the thud of the car door, signalling Stacie’s exit.  She sucked in a breath and pulled the keys from the ignition, hurrying after her cousin who was currently leaning across the reception desk.  As Beca approached, she realised that there was a speck-faced teenage boy behind the table.  The boy’s jaw was hanging, as was the usual male reaction to her cousin. He handed a key over, Stacie thanked him made her way back over to Beca.

  “One half price room…”

  “It’s not like we pay for it, Stace…  I really don’t know how you do that.”

Stacie shot Beca a grin, “All tits and teeth, Becs.  Maybe I’ll teach you one of these days.”

***

 

Hell’s House was the name that a group of teens had dubbed an old, abandoned farmhouse that sat dilapidated and lonely, just outside the town.  Stacie had done a quick trawl of the town chatting to various locals, attempting to get as much information on the area as possible.  Beca, however, dug out her fake FBI badge, flashed it a couple of times to various teens and came up with a definitive recent history of Hell’s House.   According to the kids, the hauntings hadn’t started until six years ago when one of their older siblings held a séance inside the house.  _Idiots_. 

When Beca and Stacie regrouped later in the day at their hotel room, they compared notes.  There was no history of a violent death, other than the two “suicides” that had been reported in the last fortnight.  The most damning evidence was the information about the séance that had been held several years ago. 

  “So what, four idiot kids decided to create a makeshift Ouija board and summon something?” Stacie mused, sipping the wine that she’d poured into the cheap, hotel coffee mug.  It was unnerving how Stacie could make even that look classy.

Beca shrugged, “Demons don’t tend to hang around once they’re out.  There’s something else happening here.  Did you speak to any of the old birds in the salon?”

  “They just shook their heads at me and said I was silly for even considering moving out this way.  Apparently the house has been rotting there since they were kids.  One of them said she vaguely remembers the last owner committed suicide during the depression.  So… I mean, that’d be enough… even if he was just hanging around and those kids with the Ouija board pissed him off…”

  “Either way, we’re gonna check it out.” 

***

 

  “Chloe, did you remember the salt?”

Chloe rolled her eyes and shouldered her duffle bag, slamming the trunk of their chevy. She unzipped the duffle, exposing the large bag of rock salt and a box of homemade shotgun cartridges. 

  “This isn’t my first hunt, Bree.  We’ll be fine.  It’s a spirit.  We’ve dealt with worse…”

The blonde flipped her head, collecting her long hair in a messy bun.  She looked at Chloe with an apologetic expression.  “I know… It’s just… with mom gone now… I worry about you.”

Chloe shot Aubrey one of her cheeriest grins, “Bree, I love you.  But you need to get your head in that house.  I have a good feeling about this one.  It’ll be quick.  In and out.  Salt, burn and scoot.”  
Aubrey giggled, “Don’t call it that.  You make it sound like Meemaw’s jerky.”

  “Got you to smile though, didn’t it,” Chloe added with a wink.  She handed Aubrey one of the flashlights, and one of the pistols that Aubrey had cleaned and loaded with salt earlier that evening.  Aubrey was the methodical one of the two.  She could recite their family’s hunting journal cover to cover, with the easy of a chemistry major rattling of the periodic table.  Chloe however, was the more intuitive of them.  She knew where they needed to be at times, and had perfected the _I told you so_ smirk.  It drove her practical sister insane.

  “You ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.  Let’s do this Chlo-worm.”

Aubrey and Chloe snuck through the front door of the house, Chloe clearing the first room as Aubrey silently shut the door.  There was a solid sliding thud that made both girls jump.  Aubrey rattled the door handle, quickly noting that the door was bolted shut.

  “Fuck.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, she was getting a feeling that this wasn’t going to be the straight forward hunt that they normally had.  There was movement to her left and she aimed her weapon.  The light from the torch landed on two women not much older than them.  She heard Aubrey swear under her breath.  This was going to add another unwanted factor to their job.

The silence was broken went eh smaller of the two strangers spoke. 

  “Who the fuck are you?”


End file.
